


Subterfuge

by Shadow_Chaser



Series: The Quartermaster's Recollections [10]
Category: SPECTRE (2015), Sherlock (TV), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Discussions about Mycroft's meddling, During-SPECTRE, Follows "Ghosts", Gen, Hints about Q's past, Q and Sherlock bond together by annoying Mycroft, Q is a Holmes, Sherlock Being a Good Brother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 20:15:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6580666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadow_Chaser/pseuds/Shadow_Chaser
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Holmes brothers know that affection towards one another is dangerous, especially in their line of work, but some times, only siblings know best for each other: After escaping his tail in the alpine resort, Q receives an unexpected, but welcomed phone call from his brother Sherlock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Subterfuge

Q forced himself to take calm deep breaths as he leaned against the wall in which his pursuers had ran past without a second glance. His legs felt a little unsteady and a small sense of hysterical laugh threatened to emerge from his lips. But he managed to tamp it all down as he focused on breathing in and out. He _hated_ field work and it was because he _considered_ Bond a colleague that he was even out here on Moneypenny's request. Even then, the flight was hell on his nerves. He _hated_ flying, almost as much as he hated field work. M was already furious and the urgency in the email he had received from Moneypenny told him that if he did not bring in Bond, M's wrath would fall on all of them.

He sighed. At this rate, _he_ was going to face M's wrath. Again.

Q pushed himself off of the door and opened it, glancing around at the straggling crowd of skiers. He looked for any sign of the armed gunmen that had been apparently either ordered to kill him or to capture him. He was really hoping for the latter than the former. The former required a bit of...legwork...that he rather not do. Sherlock would have gleefully picked the former for all of his physicality, but then again, his older brother was prone to picking the latter from time to time – his actions in Serbia proven otherwise. But the fact that he had sent Mycroft and Mycroft had _agreed_ to do said legwork to free Sherlock from his Serbian prison spoke volumes as to what each of them would do in certain circumstances.

Seeing no sign, Q breathed a quick sigh of relief and started to head back towards the direction of the room he knew Bond had reserved with his credit card. Even though he had told Bond what room he was in, he was not stupid to realize that it had been spoken in the open and that his pursuers might have gotten wind of it. Bond's room would have to do for now. It had been laughably easy to trace and track Bond's personal card after he had gotten a pinpoint location due to the nano-tracers in his system.

He heard the distant quiet sound of pops rendering in the Austrian Alps air and looked towards their general direction. His lips pressed together into a thin line as he knew that it was Bond doing what he did best – causing chaos as a double-o with a license to kill. Though Q was a little worried about the agent, he pushed the worry aside as he continued his trek back to the room. Bond was more than capable and he had practically come back from the dead in similar fashion like Sherlock.

Q's phone suddenly buzzed in the inner linings of his fur-lined parka as he fumbled a bit and pulled it out. A frown graced his features as he stared at the number; it was like he had silently summoned him as he accepted the call and put his phone to his ear. “Sherlock...”

“For an unlisted number, you are very easy to get a-hold of, Q,” Sherlock's reply, though electronically garbled, sounded warm and Q tilted his head a little, even though he knew his brother could not see it. He could hear something in his tone...

“Worried?” he asked and received a small snort of disdain.

“Hardly,” was the reply, “this is only a courtesy call.”

“What's the courtesy?” Q could not resist, his frown turning into a small smile as he moved effortlessly past the crowds of skiers and personnel in the facility. At the same time, he was aware enough to make sure that his pursuers had not caught wind of his scent again.

“Nothing of import,” Sherlock replied blithely, “Scrabble, words, rumors, merging of words and places together-”

“ _Sherlock_ ,” Q pressed his lips into a thin line, a little exasperated at the roundabout way his brother was getting to his point. Sometimes, his brother could be a lot like Mycroft in ways, “Just tell me that you heard.”

“What I _heard_ , was that MI6 is no more, as is MI5. The news reports are saying that you've merged into the a joint intelligence taskforce?” though it was voiced as a question, Q had no doubts that it was more a statement than anything else.

He resisted the urge to suck a breath through his teeth. The fact that Sherlock had not said anything about Max Denbigh as the one to oversee the new merger told Q a few things. His brother had either been on a case and buried so deep that he was not interested in the news – which was good, or that he had known and was somehow trying to interfere. Or there could be a middle ground where he somehow discovered that Q was off site and doing something that worried Mycroft and still didn't know about Denbigh and who M, Mycroft and himself thought he was. But the only way he would know this number and call meant that Mycroft _knew_. Mycroft knew enough that he knew the youngest of the Holmes brothers was doing something contrary to his nature and especially against M's wishes.

“How's Mycroft?” he asked instead. He could have easily accused Sherlock that Mycroft had put him up to this, but Q knew his brother well – he and Sherlock had an unspoken agreement by sheer virtue of being the younger Holmes brothers to watch out for each other whenever Mycroft decided to smother and meddle in their affairs. Sherlock took the brunt of it since Q had used MI6 and both M's in their capacities to shield himself, but then again Q had offered Sherlock a place – he had refused.

There was a brief sound – a light laugh – from the other end of the phone and Q's smile returned as he continued to thread his way through the crowds of skiers. He knew he had made his brother laugh a little and it always warmed him, especially more now after the whole debacle with Magnussen and with Moriarty.

“His diet seems to be back on track,” his brother replied and his words told Q the whole story.

Mycroft was with Sherlock, more than likely trying to listen in to their conversation. But Sherlock being Sherlock had called him both out of worry and to annoy Mycroft by keeping their conversation private and only asking questions he deemed important and replies that would annoy their older brother. Mycroft's presence meant that Anthea was more than likely also nearby. The fact that his brother had mentioned his title meant that Dr. Watson and his very intriguing ex-CIA assassin of a wife Mrs. Watson were not present. There was nothing to indicate that M was anywhere nearby so that Q did not have to face his wrath, but Q concluded that it was more than likely Anthea who had been asked by M to check on his whereabouts. Anthea had then probably told Sherlock and considering what he knew about the double-o assigned to guard his older brother, Mycroft had also found out. Hence this phone call.

He also supposed that the Quartermaster of MI6 suddenly disappearing would worry M for a bit – especially with Max Denbigh still in the picture. That would have to be remedied soon. And it would put him on a beeline path to M's wrath...again. Q sighed inwardly – he resigned himself to the fact that M would be pissed at him when he returned. He could only hope that he returned with Bond so that most of M's wrath would be directed at the rogue double-o – not that Q was beyond putting Bond in the line of fire for M's wrath, oh heavens no, he would not even consider it...

There was also the problem with the ring that Bond had given to him to analyze. It linked a lot of Bond's old enemies together and Q knew that it was definitely not a coincidence. What he and M had initially thought of Bond chasing ghosts was, in fact, very real and Q knew that Bond would need the support and resources of whatever was left of MI6. Denbigh had already made it clear that he considered M and the rest of MI6 to be obsolete and so Q knew that he would not get any help there – Denbigh's uncanny resemblance to Moriarty not withstanding. He could not risk _that_ getting to Bond without proof. Q had no desire to send a double-o against a former (if he really was Moriarty) double-o – even if Bond had eventually taken down Silva. No, Denbigh was a completely separate problem for him and for M to figure out while Bond focused on the lead he had been chasing.

“I'm fine, Sherlock,” he preempted his brother's roundabout attempt to ask how he was.

“Your resume crossed my desk-”

“You don't have a desk,” Q shot back and could almost see the half-smile on Sherlock's face, “you do have a very nice comfortable lounging chair though...”

Sherlock made a noise of agreement, “I suppose so.”

“And I'm _fine_...” he repeated, his words taking on a different meaning. He knew Sherlock was asking both for his health and the imminent demise of his protection against Mycroft's meddling. With MI6 folding, it all but meant that Q was out of a job and there was no way that he was going to work for Max Denbigh. But he also could not tell Sherlock why without revealing to him the possibility that his greatest nemesis was still alive and that MI6 had been keeping careful watch on him. He supposed he was lucky that Sherlock rarely watched the telly; too engrossed in his cases from time to time.

He had heard from Mycroft that when Dr. Watson had been living with Sherlock, he had gotten him to watch a lot of telly, but in ways was glad that the good doctor had moved out. Sherlock's telly watching was far less and though it did not mean that he might not know about Max Denbigh, he also knew that Denbigh rarely appeared on camera for press conferences and talked to reporters. He had threatened Mycroft that if Sherlock knew about Max Denbigh, he would tell him their suspicions on who they really thought he was – but his brother's words indicated that he knew nothing about Denbigh, only that MI6 and MI5 were merging together.

“Scotland Yard-”

“Sherlock,” Q paused a little, “I. Am. _Fine_.” He shook his head as he glanced around him and saw that no one else was around before taking out a small device and placing it on the electronic portion of the door lock and activated the scrambling program in it. A few seconds later, it beeped and the door clicked open. Q pushed in and shut the door behind him.

He could almost hear the hesitation in the beat it took his brother to process his reply. “Q...don't...”

Q stopped, staring out at the windows of Bond's room as he immediately realized what his insistence that he was fine had meant to Sherlock. He sighed quietly as he shucked off his backpack and placed his laptop on the king-sized bed. Switching the phone to his other ear, he cradled it as he started to unzip his parka. “Sherlock, I'm not going anywhere...”

There was no answer and Q knew that his brother doubted his words.

“M will still honor my agreement,” he tried to reassure his brother, “I won't disappear. Not like last time. Mycroft won't be able to do anything about it.”

“...I can-”

“No, Sherlock. Let me fight my battles like I let you fight yours,” he chided his brother gently, knowing that his concern came from years past and their shared bond.

“...All right,” Sherlock agreed reluctantly, “but Anthea-”

“Anthea doesn't know, Sherlock,” he warned.

“Oh...” there were the rare times that Q knew he could surprise his brother and he could hear the surprise in Sherlock's voice.

“She's also loyal to Mycroft,” he reminded him and could see in his mind's eye his head nodding in agreement.

“...Well...you won't be the first Holmes to do some legwork,” his brother's feeble attempt at a joke to lighten the seriousness of their conversation made Q laugh lightly.

“No, but I was the first,” he agreed, “but that's in the past. You can do all of the legwork now.”

“I'll let John do the shooting part, or rather, I'll let Mary do that instead,” Sherlock's laugh was warm and Q had to smile at the affection in his brother's voice. He truly cared deeply for John and Mary Watson and their child.

“I can see Mycroft rubbing his head,” he grinned even though Sherlock could not see it.

“Yep,” Sherlock agreed, “he is.”

“Good,” Q's smile grew a little wider, “tell him to stop meddling where he doesn't need to meddle. If he wanted to meddle, he can come see me himself.”

“I will,” he could hear the slight change in Sherlock's voice and knew that he had turned to more than likely give a withering look at Mycroft, but it was his next words that told Q the rest of the story, “have a safe flight.”

Before Q could even reply, he heard the distinct beeping of the call being hung up and softly groaned into the now disconnected phone. Sherlock's words told him that M _knew_ he had left, knew that he had been lied to regarding Bond's whereabouts, and somewhere in that, Mycroft had gotten involved and gotten Sherlock involved to check on his health and whereabouts. Q sighed and pocketed his phone as he leaned over and picked up his laptop. He was going to kill Bond if whomever he was chasing didn't kill him first. Maybe even kill him after he checked the files on the ring Bond had given him. He did not like this whole connection Bond had with his enemies and the fact that the double-o insisted that Obenhauser was still alive worried him.

He supposed first things were first as he opened his laptop and settled down into the table in Bond's room and placed the ring back onto the portable scanner. He could still hear the distant booming sounds of a fight going on and smiled grimly to himself. Bond could take care of himself and this was the least he could do to hopefully make the rogue agent come back home to use the resources of whatever was left of MI6 to chase ghosts and specters of the past. Obenhauser was dead, as was James Moriarty, right?

 

~END~

 


End file.
